


Always

by liquor (pleasepleaseme)



Category: John Lennon - Fandom, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M, Possession, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 10:05:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasepleaseme/pseuds/liquor
Summary: i was supposed to have this done in the beginning of January .





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve given up on trying to fix the indents .  
> they’re broken again .

John Lennon awoke one snowy morning to the sounds of rather needy whimpers. Confused and groggy at first, his dark eyes fluttered open and he quickly reached around for his glasses on the bedside table. After putting them on and adjusting his vision, he finally sat up and studied what lay beside him. It was his fiancé, and she was a moaning mess... asleep. He sighed as he got used to his surroundings. Sunlight streamed in through your bedroom window. The wintery scenery assisting with the brightness. And his eyes were drawn once more to you as your sounds of want didn’t falter for a second. You had completely removed the covers from yourself at some point during the night, and were currently writhing around for all to see with your eyes tightly shut and your mouth agape, clearly stuck in some cruel wet dream. Your hair was a mess and your back was crudely arched as your hands shook, slowly moving their best to your underwear, as it was all you slept in.  
John’s eyes trailed all over your unconscious form, intrigued. It was a lot to wake up to. He thought you looked absolutely beautiful in your undone state. And then he felt his face heat up as his mind began to race. Who were you dreaming about? Who was making you act like this? The dream was clearly intense enough. John angrily pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose and decided he’d just have to show you who the only one who was allowed to make you feel this way was. Huffing, he took your wrists carefully in his hands, moving them away from your body, as you’d been previously trying to desperately touch yourself however you could. Slowly, John let go of your hands, and thankfully, you stayed put.  
Then he decided to use his own. He slipped his hands into your panties and simply began to rub, lightly grinning when your sounds of bliss grew louder. You bucked your hips as he did so, subconsciously moving to meet his touch in your comatose state. You really seemed to be enjoying this. John stopped for a moment and thought to himself. He took his hand away from you and watched as his fingers glistened with wetness. And then, of course. John gracefully stuck them in his mouth until they were clean. He then adjusted his glasses once more and pulled your panties down. Not much, just enough for him to be able to duck down and place his head in between your legs, beginning to lick vigorously afterward.  
John, of course, was exceedingly good at this, and he knew it, too. He knew just the right way to go about all the right places, and before you knew it, you awoke in an overwhelmed haze, whimpering and moaning from above him. You, of course; looked down to see your fiancé between your legs. You were confused, but physically couldn’t speak to question it. John, glancing up at your sounds growing louder, realized you were now awake and stopped quickly, not wanting you to cum just yet. He wasn’t done with you, of course. Instead, he just slowly began to move upwards, sensually leaving marks trailing up your body with his mouth as he did so. John was acting too calm. You knew something was up. But all you could to was whimper beneath him, shaking slightly.  
And then, before you knew it, you were eye-to-eye with the man who intensely hovered overhead of you. You stared at his face in the haze of being awoken in such a way. You couldn’t help but to look at him as if it were the last time you were going to see him. His dark eyes and his and his equally dark messy hair, soft and fluffy and sticking up all over the place. He looked smug, his eyes never once leaving yours. He reminded you of some animalistic predator, examining the fear in your eyes before he struck. He smirked, like he knew something you didn’t.  
“That must’ve been quite some dream you were having, wasn’t it?”  
He chuckled, his thick Liverpool accent blanketing around you in the air. You smiled a little at the familiarity of his soft voice. It was comforting to hear him speak. Silently, you nodded as you bit your lip. Truth be told, you couldn’t exactly remember what it was about; only that it was a rush. John sat up so that he was resting on his knees, placing both on either side of your legs. He then gripped your waist and slid you quickly down the bed so that you were a bit closer and his legs were now around your thighs. Your head fell off the pillow and you now could only stare directly up at him. It was a little jarring.  
“So, who was it about then, hmm? Paul? Was it George? Don’t tell me it was fucking Ringo.” John licked his lips sadistically. John had seemed to have absolutely lost his mind ever since he’d been with you. You thought it was just some cute infatuation at first; how jealous he got; but then it escalated. John thought you were always with somewhere else; his conspiracies spiraled out of control and soon you were never allowed to leave his side. But you stayed. Because you loved him; and he clearly cared enough for you. And so you lived with it; the delusions and the following. That’s how couples were; of course. That’s what he told you and eventually it began what you told yourself.  
Even now, you had no sanctuary even in your own head. “I was dreaming about you, John.” You whimpered. John moved off you and once you tried to sit up, his strong hands grabbed hold of your shoulders, forcing you down. He shut you up about it by quickly bringing a hand down into your panties, rubbing quickly. A feeling of bliss you couldn’t control ignited inside of you and your breath caught in your throat, your head tilting back a little. John’s smile grew. “I don’t know... How could I believe you when you act like such a whore?”  
“John...” You whined pathetically, trying to get a grip on your words as his pace increased. You couldn’t help but to think his fingers wouldn’t be this skilled if he wasn’t a guitarist.  
“Use your words, (Y/N). Who was it? Hmm? Who made you feel like that?” The man continued.  
“You.” You managed to whine. John suddenly used his other hand to grab your thigh rather hard, his finger indents most-likely to leave bruises. You yelled before yelling out. “You, John!”  
The musician chuckled, shaking his head as he removed his hand from your body. You quickly pushed yourself up, sitting against the headboard with shallow breaths. The male glanced down at your panties, which were near-sheer at this point from how wet they were.  
“You’re soaked.” He grinned. “Who did that, I wonder. Was it Paul this time?”  
Frantically, you shook your head.  
“You’re mine, (Y/N); I own you. I don’t want you thinking about any other guy but me. Got that?” John instructed. You nodded quickly.  
“Say it, whore. Say you understand my rules.” He commanded.  
“I do.” You spoke quietly.  
“What’d you say?” John growler. Before you could react, John gave a hard smack to your thigh. The sound seemed to echo around the room. You gasped as a stinging sensation was left on your skin, paired with a hand-shaped red blotch that seemed to appear magically. “I-I understand, sir!” You responded, tears gathering in your eyes. John grinned. “Good.”  
He hooked a finger around the side of your panties.  
“These. Off.” He said simply. Whatever John said went, and so you raced to tear them off as fast as you could. Only when you met his stare again was when you realized how desperate you must’ve looked. He chuckled at how easily you obeyed him. “Good pet. So eager.” He mumbled. You didn’t have much time to react before John roughly pushed your legs apart, plunging a finger inside of you without any hesitation. You gasped at the sudden gesture without any warning. You were soon whining beneath him as he forced his finger in and out of you, quickly adding another.  
You were soon overstimulated greatly; John always knew how to make you a loud, whiny mess. Your hips moved to meet his hand as he simply stared down at you with a hungry look in his eyes. You could see the quite obvious tent in his boxers as he watched you writhe in front of him. Embarrassed at your own involuntary actions, you looked down, hoping to hide your lewd noises and facial expressions... and the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. John reacted almost instantly, roughly gripping your jaw in his free hand, forcing you to look at him.  
“Did I fucking say you could look away? Daddy wants to see you cry.” John growled. And that’s just what you did as you blubbered pathetically. You were almost certain your jaw would be bruised later from the force that he gripped you with. Warm tears ran down your face and John seemed to grin.  
“That’ll fucking teach you not to think about other guys.” He scowled in approval. John was feeling possessive. But then again, when wasn’t he? He slowly removed his fingers as soon as he got the notion that you were close enough. You pouted the withdrawal. John shook his head lovingly before he moved on top of you, burying his head in your neck as he began to leave more marks. John always left hickeys when he wanted to prove the point that you belonged to him. Not surprisingly, it happened very often. However, it was definitely just as effective. Paul always gave a raise of his eyebrows whenever you came around clinging to John’s arm, fresh bruises lingering on your neck. George scrunched his nose and rolled his eyes whenever he happened to notice. He thought your relationship was unhealthy. And Ringo... always had something to say. Usually something that would make Paul laugh and John beam with pride. John, taking himself off you, quickly took himself out of his boxers, which he slept in. You were distracted by John’s mouth on your neck, and so he took this opportunity to take his dick into his hand and line it up at your soaking entrance. You couldn’t react with nothing more than a broken gasp before he’d slowly already began to push himself into you. You whimpered a little, gripping the sheets around you.  
“You aren’t going to like this.” He whispered in your ear before kissing you one last time, sitting up afterwards. Confused about what he meant, it soon came to realization that John barely moved. You whimpered his name, begging him to move. At all. He did begin to comply, after a few moments of consideration, but painfully slowly. And then you were begging for him to go faster. He shook his head. “You have to learn a lesson.”  
“Come on; I’m all yours to ruin.” You reasoned. “I know you want to.”  
John thought for a second. “You asked for it.” He agreed simply. He trusted that it was what you wanted. And he would give it to you. And then, without saying anything else, he began pounding into you as hard and fast as a train. Of course, he did just what you told him to do. You were completely ruined. The room was filled with sickly slapping, loud moans, and heavy breathing. Neither of you lasted very long with the way things were going.  
With every thrust John gave, you grew louder, not caring about the risk of any neighbors hearing; although they probably would. You were sent over the edge with a cry of John’s name; and he followed soon afterward, face buried in your neck. This was probably the messiest you’d ever been. John kissed your neck as he came down with the last few thrusts, whispering that you were his over and over again.


End file.
